I was torn between two intentions, either to reappear suddenly as a passing traveler and call at the Palazzo Romanelli, or still to lie low.
Many times I discussed it with Lola and Madame.
“Zuccari is always with the Marchesa,” I said one morning as we sat together at déjeuner at Salerno. “I can’t quite make things out. I have been watching intently, yet I can discover nothing. He sent a message to her by Flavia the other day—an urgent and defiant message, I believe. I hear also that the Admiral goes to Rome to-night,” I added. “He has been suddenly called to the Ministry of Marine.”
“Then you will follow, of course? We will remain here to keep an eye upon the Marchesa,” said Madame.
“You do not suspect the Admiral?” I asked.
“Not at all,” she said. “It is the woman we have to watch.”
“And also the pretty daughter?” I suggested.
With that she agreed. We were, however, faced by a strangely complex problem. Here was a woman—one of the most popular in all Italy—denounced by the humble monk of San Domenico as a dangerous adventuress. And yet she was the strongest supporter of the popular Pietro Zuccari—the wealthy man by whose efforts the finances of Italy had been reëstablished after the war.
After a long conference it was arranged that Madame and Lola should go to Rome and there watch the Admiral’s movements, while I remained in Naples ever on the alert.